The Tale of the Terrible Kisser
by Sergeant Wellington
Summary: No boy ever wants to snog Rose more than once. So, clearly, she's a terrible kisser. Scorpius proves otherwise. One-shot.


_**The Tale of the Terrible Kisser**_

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She must have been a terrible kisser. That was the only logical and reasonable explanation she could think of. She just must have been an awful, horrible kisser and that was why no one ever wanted to snog her a second time.

Why else would some boys (and now men) pursue her for days, _weeks_ even, only to snog her and never call again? Or _speak_ to her again? Or even look her in the eye?

Was she that terrible?

She had kissed and snogged a decent amount of men – she was no floosy, nor was she prude. Boys that had been her friends, her classmates, boys she had never spoken to before, boys that were sloshed, boys that were sober, boys that had made it obvious they were looking for more than a one-time snog. And yet _every time_, after _every_ boy she had ever kissed, they never showed interest again. They _ignored_ her, wouldn't look her in the eye, were down right _awkward_.

And after the _third_ time this had happened post-Hogwarts, she knew it _had_ to be because she was simply a _terrible_ kisser and no one wanted to kiss her a second time.

So she gave up hoping that someone would. She focused on her career, her friends and her family and didn't _bother_ going on dates, knowing it would only lead to one _single_ snog.

"You'll find your Prince Charming, Rose. One day you'll meet and he'll pursue you, you won't even have to do anything," her cousin Victoire always told her. But that was easy for her to say, she had known Teddy since she was born and had loved him since she knew what love was.

"Just go out and talk to a guy you think is attractive – at work, at the pub, anywhere," her cousin Roxanne would say, "just buck up, Rosie and take some chances."

Rose never asked for advice: she was perfectly pleased with her life. She had finished her Healer training in record time and was quickly climbing the ladder at St. Mungo's. What with her job and her very large family she barely had time to even think about men.

Until it seemed that nearly _every_ one she knew was dating. And everyone began "worrying" about her.

But what was she to do? She was apparently a terrible kisser.

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"Come on, Rosie, come to the pub tonight with us," Emma pleaded with her as they walked down a hall of St. Mungo's, "you haven't come out with us in a while. Albus and I miss you."

"I saw Albus just the other day," Rose's eyes were trained on the medical file she held in her hand. She loved her good friend Emma, whom she had met last year and had begun mentoring, but had she known that she and Albus would become attached at the hip, she would have never introduced them. But she couldn't deny they were good together.

"Oh, Rosie, come on, everyone will be there. Not all couples. Scorpius will be there and a few of Albus' teammates, some of James and Fred's friends," Emma was nearly pleading.

"Oh, Malfoy and Jamie and Fred's friends," she said dryly, "sounds like a blast."

"Please? I rarely see you outside of work!"

"Fine, fine, all right, yes," she sighed, "I'll see you later, all right? I have a meeting with the Chief." She smiled and walked off.

"Right after work, Rosie! Or I'll have James come and _kidnap_ you."

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She didn't _hate_ Scorpius Malfoy nor was she exactly fond of him: she was rather _indifferent_ toward him. Or that's at least how she wanted to come across. They had competed against each other since the first day of classes, but had always respected each other. He had often attempted to rile her, but she had (usually) managed to keep her cool. She was nice to him for Albus' sake and when they were Head Boy and Head Girl, for the sake of the school. And she wouldn't deny that he was terribly attractive.

Intelligent, attractive and cocky. And her cousin's best friend.

So with Scorpius, who she hadn't seen in some time, and James and Fred's friends, whom she could _only_ imagine what they were like, well she did not have high hopes for this evening.

So that was why by the time Scorpius arrived at the pub half an hour late, Rose was already on her third glass of wine.

"Yes, why are you so dressed up, Rosie? You usually don't wear dresses to work," James teased, his friend Ben openly eyeing her over his pint.

She bristled slightly, "I wear dresses on the occasion, but they aren't very practical in medical _emergencies_, are they?" She glared at her cousin, "And if you _must_ know, I had a meeting with the Chief and a few other higher-ups."

Scorpius chuckled from his seat directly across from her as he arched a golden-blonde eyebrow, "Another promotion?"

She smirked at him, "Just another job title."

Albus laughed and shook his head, "How long until you're Chief, Rose? A year?" He raised his glass at her.

Scorpius winked at her and Benjamin's eyes found a busty blonde at the bar to watch.

Maybe tonight wasn't going to be _so_ bad.

Until everyone started talking about "couple-y" things and Fred and his girlfriend, Clara, starting asking her about _her_ love life. She was sick of the, "Why don't you have a boyfriend?" and "You work too hard," but as she listened, she continued to drink, nodding her head and attempting to smile.

Scorpius could see her discomfort and felt bad that her family was drilling her like this in the pub. When she had finished her latest glass, he stood up abruptly, "Weasley, you mind accompanying me to the bar? He'll serve _you_ more promptly than _me_."

She arched an eyebrow, but stood, "Godric, _thank_ you," she whispered hurriedly as his hand found the small of her back and his eyes quickly admired the royal purple sheath dress she was wearing. He had always admired her throughout school and these post-Hogwarts years, but why wouldn't he? She was gorgeous and intelligent and _driven_ and ambitious and he had always loved trying to push her buttons.

"It wasn't exactly _fair_ of them," he leaned against the bar, watching her as she waved at the bartender.

"Two pints," she smiled, "you'd think they'd give up after a while, but," she shrugged, her blue-hazel eyes meeting his steel-grey ones briefly. She had nearly forgotten how _intense_ his eyes were. "They never seem to give up."

"Ever think of just _getting_ a boyfriend," he smirked slightly as he took a pint from her.

"Right," she laughed, "because it's _that_ simple. Just _get_ a boyfriend."

"Are you trying to tell me that you don't have numerous men begging for your number?"

"I'm not _trying_ to tell you, I _am_ telling you," she shook her head, her, long, wavy, golden-red hair falling in front of her face, "I am _not_ talking about this with you, Malfoy."

"Fair enough," he clinked glasses with her, "cheers."

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It felt like they talked for hours as they continued to drink. They talked about Healing, about his job at the Ministry about their days as Head Boy and Head Girl, her cousins and nearly everything else. Two by two, her cousins and their significant others said goodnight, but they continued to talk and tease each other easily.

After they stopped laughing about something, Rose eyed him closely and said with a wry smile, "You want to know why I don't have a boyfriend, why I've _never_ had a boyfriend?"

"Only if you're comfortable –"

"I'm a terrible kisser," she let out a giggle before she could cover her mouth with her hand.

He laughed softly, watching her face, "I highly doubt that."

"Then please explain to me, Malfoy, why no boy in the past five years has ever wanted to snog me after the first time," she arched a challenging eyebrow. "You can't, can you?"

"I'm serious," she carried on, "it's really the only logical explanation. I mean, sure now I don't bother going on dates because I know better. Nothing's going to happen. One date, maybe two if we don't kiss, then we kiss, and it's done. You remember McClain? He bothered me for weeks to go to Hogsmeade with him. I did mainly to get him to leave me alone. We studied a few times after that, he was always trying to follow me around, you remember? Annoying it was. Then we snogged once, the end." She took another long sip of her drink as Scorpius watched her.

"Maybe he realized that you didn't really fancy him."

"Maybe, but the others? I thought Christenson was fit enough. One kiss."

"But he was as thick as _Hogwarts, A Complete History_," Scorpius shrugged, a faint smirk on his lips.

"He was," she nodded, "but regardless. There have been a fair number of boys I've kissed once and that's it. They pursued me, we went on a date, regardless. I'm a terrible kisser. Only explanation."

She giggled again, "Godric, I'm talking to _you_ about how much of a bad kisser I am," she shook her head, "I'm _sorry_."

"You don't talk about this much to anyone do you," he watched her carefully.

"Why would I? Bloody Victoire is always telling me I'll find my Prince Charming one day," she snorted, "bloody Muggle rubbish. And Roxy and Lily are always saying I should just grow a pair and go out on more dates, talk to more guys at pubs," she waved a hand, "at least I'm doing that. Even if it's you."

"Oi," he chuckled, "that was a bit hurtful."

"You know what I mean, Malfoy," she shook her head, "I'm not usually keen on sharing such details about my personal life. Cousins or not."

He nodded, "I completely understand," he watched her closely again, "but maybe your cousins are on to something. Maybe you just need to find a guy who you're both attracted to and can hold conversations with."

"Subconsci -," she frowned, unable to properly say the word, "are you getting all psychic on me?"

He bit back a laugh, "Never, Weasley. Just proposing a theory."

She frowned, "I think you need to drink a bit more, Malfoy. I don't like when I'm drunker than people I'm talking with."

He chuckled, "They're clearly just intimidated of you then, Rose."

She scoffed, tearing her eyes away from his mesmerizing stare. "Right. Of _me_."

He leaned toward her slightly, his blonde hair falling dangerously close to his steel grey eyes as he tried to get her to look at him, "You're a strong, intelligent, _beautiful_ woman who knows what she wants, who excels at her job and is always getting promotions," he touched her bare arm lightly, "a _lot_ of me would be intimidated by you."

Her eyes met his and for the first time that Scorpius could remember she looked _vulnerable_ and unsure of herself, "Are you intimidated by me?"

"Intimidated, sure. But not _scared_ of you," he opened his mouth to continue, leaning towards her again when the bartender interrupted them.

"Last call you two, sorry."

Rose blinked, as though waking from a stupor, "Right, yes, of course, it _is_ late," she put a few Muggle pounds on the bar, Scorpius doing the same. He helped her into her coat, a smile still on his face.

"Please, Rose, let me walk you home," he loosened his tie slightly, drawing her attention.

"Do you wear Muggle suits to the Ministry all the time?"

He put his hand on the small of her back, extremely aware of how perfect it felt, "Yes, usually. Robes are a hassle."

She looked at him as they walked out of the pub, "I rather like you in a suit, Malfoy."

"Why, Rose, I think you're a bit sloshed," he grinned, "but I rather like you in _dresses_, especially that color."

She stopped outside the pub and turned to look at him, "Thanks, Scorpius, for saving me from my bloody cousins and making me feel better," she smiled, "even if I don't believe you." She turned to go, "And it was nice _talking_ with you. Should have gotten to know each other better at school."

He took her hand, not wanting her to leave, "Let me walk you home, Rose."

"No, it's all right –"

"Rose, please, I _want_ to," he smiled slightly and put his hand on the small of her back again, "come on then."

She laughed softly, "I really leave right round the corner," she looked at his face closely. "Do you think if we weren't always competing we'd have been better friends?"

He grinned, "I always tried to get your attention, but you were always so focused on beating me," he laughed, "I found that rather amusing."

"I'm glad I could _amuse_ you," she shook her head, "this is me." She turned to face him, "Thanks, Scorpius, again."

He took a step towards her, closing the space between them, his gorgeous, steel grey eyes, flicking between her blue eyes and her lips, "Rose," he said softly, "I'd like to see you again – without your cousins and our friends."

Her gaze stayed on his lips for a moment before settling on his eyes again, "You won't," she said softly.

His hand cupped her face lightly, a slight smirk playing on his lips as his eyes darted between her eyes and her lips, his other hand on her waist, pulling her body towards him, "I _will_," he said softly, bringing his lips to hers.

It was unlike any of her previous kisses.

Scorpius didn't kiss like the other boys she had snogged. This kiss was _different_: she finally understood what Victoire and Emma and the others meant when they said that kissing their significant other was unlike anything they had previously felt. Everywhere his fingers touched felt like her skin was on fire; she had never felt such _passion_.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his lips hovering over hers, his eyes watching her face. "And you're _not_ a bad kisser," he lowered his lips to hers again.

"You're just being nice," she mumbled against his lips, never wanting him to stop, fearful that they would never kiss again.

He chuckled, kissing the corner of her mouth, "I'm not. I want to see you again," he kissed her fully on the lips again. "I _want_ to kiss you again. I want to continue kissing you," he stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb before bringing his lips to hers again.

She pouted slightly, "I'll believe it when I see it," she turned towards the door of her building, "but this _was_ fun. And I hope we do it again," she smiled sadly, "but I know we won't."

Scorpius smiled, "I'll see you tomorrow, Rose."

"Good night, Scorpius."

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She Accio-ed the Hangover Potion she prayed to Godric was somewhere in her flat before she even open her eyes; she had been awake for a mere moment when her pounding headache had already started. Merlin, why did she drink so much last night?

But she hadn't gotten sloshed enough to forget what had transpired throughout the night. No, she unfortunately remembered everything.

She had bloody kissed _Malfoy_.

And had enjoyed it. Immensely.

She knew there wasn't going to be a second kiss, or a continuation of anything with Malfoy. It was her curse: she was a bad kisser and no matter how much she had enjoyed their late-night snog, no matter how much she wished they would kiss again, she knew it wasn't going to happen.

But more than kissing him again, she wanted to talk with him again, maybe grab coffee. She always knew he was intelligent, but they had never sat and had a lengthy conversation before last night. Granted, they were sloshed (she more than he if she remembered correctly), but she knew that they had talked for what felt like hours about everything and anything. He was interesting and infuriating but not boring. He wasn't "thick" like some men and he wasn't obsessed with Quidditch like other men; he was - dare she think it? - wonderful.

How had she never seen it before? Had she been so engrossed in her studies and Head Girl duties? Had she subconsciously been following her father's unspoken dislike for anything Malfoy-related? She had never hated him, but had merely tolerated him. Now, however, she wish she had done more than simply tolerate him.

She frowned at her reflection as she wrapped a towel around her body. Maybe they could at least be friends now that he would never want to see her romantically again. Men and women could be friends; maybe they could have the occasional lunch together to chat about politics and work and family and books they were reading. And maybe that would keep her cousins off her back about dating; maybe she could use Malfoy as a decoy.

She dried her hair with her wand and marched to her closet. One drunken conversation and kiss did not mean that she was going to throw her life away pining over Scorpius. Her cousins were right: she could chat up men at pubs or at work or at cafes if she wanted to, and one day, in the far off future, she may even meet a man who didn't mind how badly she kissed.

And if not, she would be Chief Healer of St. Mungo's at an even younger age than expected.

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"You and Scorpius got on well last night," Emma smiled slyly at her friend as joined her in the lift.

Rose rolled her eyes, "If you mean we held a friendly conversation because you lot were all couples and my lovely cousins were bothering me about my love life," she said dryly, "then yes, we got on well."

"You didn't get into a heated argument," she pointed out, "and you talked to him more than you ever did in school."

Rose eyed her friend, "You barely knew either of us in school, Em. What did bloody Albus tell you?"

"You were Head Girl and Head Boy, of course I knew you two," she shrugged, "you just never seemed like such great chums, that's all. But you seemed to get on famously last night."

Rose kept her eyes on the doors of the lift, waiting for it to open, to end this increasingly-awkward conversation. "We had a lot to drink," she said, hoping this would end Emma's interrogation.

Emma hummed in agreement, "I suppose so," she continued to watch her friend, "he's a nice enough bloke though. Friendly and fit and smart and all that."

"Yes, yes, Emma. You know Scorpius better than I do because of Albus and all that, I understand," her eyes flashed to her friend, "but please, don't try setting me up with him or _anyone_. It's bad enough my bloody grandmum tries to."

Emma nodded, "Just want you to be happy, Rosie. And I want Scorp to be happy too," she smiled slightly. "He is a very intriguing -"

The lift finally stopped on Rose's floor and she could barely hide her relief, "See you later, Emma," she raced out of the lift as soon as she could squeeze through the opening doors. A conversation about Scorpius was the last thing she wanted. Especially if Emma was trying to set her up with him; Rose knew that it would never -

_Focus_. She took a deep breath and approached the nurses' station. She had at least half an hour before she was likely to see Emma again.

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"Healer Weasley," the elderly Mediwitch at the desk said, "there's a young man waiting for you outside your office. Said he was a close friend."

Rose frowned, "Is that really protocol, Marybeth? Shouldn't people wait in the lobby?"

"He's not some riffraff off the streets, Healer Weasley," the elderly woman peered at her over her thick eyeglasses, "he's from the Ministry."

Rose barely refrained from rolling her eyes, "Name?"

She shrugged and stared down at her desk, "I can't remember."

Rose rolled her eyes and stalked down the hall: Emma had been pestering her all day, she had to deal with two obnoxious sets of parents and a woman who refused nearly all treatments, and now bloody Marybeth had let some Ministry worker sit outside her office.

At least it wasn't one of her bloody cousins.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she rounded the corner to her office. There he was, his blonde-head resting in his hands, his elbows on his lap, his feet tapping sporadically. Her heart beat loudly as she tried not to get excited: he wasn't here to kiss her or ask her on a date. He was here to put her down gently. He was too nice to be openly cruel to her, wasn't he? And he was her closet cousin's best mate, he _had_ to be nice to her for Albus' sake.

His head snapped up when he heard her footsteps approaching. He stood, a smile forming on his lips as his eyes traveled slowly and discreetly up her body. "You're awful busy," he greeted.

"At my job, yes," she arched an eyebrow, "can I help you? If you're ill you should go –"

"I sent you an owl and tried to Floo you, Rose," he watched as she opened the door of her office and followed her in, "I wanted to see you," he frowned slightly as she shrugged off her white coat, picking up a few folders from her desk, her eyes darting across them. "I hoped we could grab a drink or get dinner."

"Scorpius," her voice was even, "you don't need to pity me. I can be civil around you, for Albus' sake. No need to inconvenience you just because you feel bad." She didn't raise her eyes; she couldn't look at him, fearful of the relief she knew would be there.

"Rose," she was startled to feel his hands on her arms, his warm body behind her, "I told you I'd want to see you again," his warm breath danced across her neck, "I want to take you to dinner, for a _drink_, whatever you want." He turned her to face him, his steel grey eyes searching her blue ones, "Can I kiss you again, Rose?"

She swallowed, "You, you want to?" Her voice was thick.

He smiled crookedly, "Merlin, _yes_," his face was mere centimeters from hers, "it's all I could think about _all_ bloody day." His lips pressed to hers softly and she let out a soft moan.

She was kissing _Scorpius bloody Malfoy_. For a _second_ time. His hands pulled her body closer to his as he kissed her like she had never been kissed before. One hand ran through her long, wavy golden-red hair as the other held her close to him as she parted her lips, deepening the kiss.

"Do you still doubt me?" He mumbled as he kissed across her jaw towards her bare neck, a smile on his lips.

"Not sure," she muttered, breathily and pulled his face back to her lips when he chuckled.

"You're bloody insufferable, Weasley, you know that?"

Some time later, both of them looking thoroughly snogged, Scorpius tucked some of her long hair behind her ear, his hand caressing the exposed skin on her hip, "Can I take you to dinner?"

Her eyes flickered to his mouth, "Not because you pity me?"

He smiled crookedly, "You don't find me thick or boring or unintelligent, do you?"

"No," she looked back into his eyes, "why?"

He shook his head slightly, bringing his face closer to hers again, "You're a bloody _fantastic_ kisser, Rose," he kissed her slowly and deliberately. "I never want tostop kissing you."

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It had come to a bit of surprise to nearly everyone when Scorpius and Rose began dating, although once they saw the pair together, it shouldn't have. They complimented each other (nearly) perfectly and after a few days Albus even forgot what it was like when they _hadn't_ been dating. "I should have seen it," he shook his head with a smile, his bright emerald green eyes watching the pair, "I can't believe I didn't."

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"I can't believe you ever thought you were a bad kisser," Scorpius would whisper hotly in her ear.

"It _seemed_ logical at the time," she would arch an eyebrow at him, "I never said I _believed_ I was," she would smile deviously, her eyes turned away from him, "I'm good at everything I do, you know. I'm Rose bloody Weasley." She would smirk slightly.

"And really all you needed was a man you found interesting, intelligent and attractive. Pity you didn't think of that yourself, Weasley," he would smirk, letting his hand rest on her thigh, "I thought you were supposed to be brilliant."

"Yes, shame," she would reply airily, "to think that there were other men out there I could have snogged more than once –"

"You're a bloody minx, Weasley," he would growl softly, "you _know_ there's very few who could keep you interested intellectually," he smirked and would whisper, "and even fewer in bed."

Then she would stand up, give him her hand, excuse themselves to their friends and say challengingly, "Prove it, Malfoy."

And he would.

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A/N: I'm not entirely pleased with the ending, but I wanted to keep this a one-shot. I hit a bit of a writer's block trying to write the Scorpius/Rose chapter of my _Weasley Weddings_ story (please read!) and I got this 'Rose's a bad kisser' idea for a story.

Thoughts? Please review!


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